Wailin' Smithers
by HarleenQuinn
Summary: Smithers contemplates ending his life until Mr. Burns gives him a reason to live with a startling and unexpected revelation. Oneshot.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Simpsons characters.

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Wailin' Smithers

Perfected porcelain faces gazed down upon me from my pristine oak shelves, their many eyes wide and painted with judgment. My dog, Hercules, stared at me more with alarm than judgment, but with disapproval nonetheless. Photographs I had hung up on my walls, pictures of my parents, my friends, my ex-wife…their eyes too met mine with shame. But the two faces that did not gape at me with denunciation or panic or disgrace were the faces of myself and Mr. Burns, in an enormous framed picture that hung above my bed. These faces were blank, cold, and admitted no emotion for me, not even in my current state. The eyes of my best friend expelled no change in their vacuity whatsoever, and my eyes matched this indifference. Mr. Burns didn't care about me, and therefore, I didn't care about myself. In fact, I rather hated myself, which made my decision that much simpler.

I stared at the gun in my hands mostly with apathy for myself. After all, I didn't really deserve the life I was living anyway. I was one of the most affluent denizens of Springfield; I lived in a nice home; I had a stable job. And I couldn't help but feel that I deserved less. I was always a comparatively decent, maybe even kind, person. In my heart, I was a good man, the kind of man who helped others during crises, the kind who gave his wealth to worthy causes, the kind who would fight against the evil of the world, but instead, I was the man who helped bring evil to his town, to plague his people and to poison his own soul. I was nothing that I knew I wanted to be, and I was nothing that I knew I could be. I had wasted most of my life executing the immoral schemes of my best friend, and sometimes, I could barely look at myself in the mirror knowing what good I could have done for my world if only my heart were as sound and industrious as my mind.

But I supposed it didn't matter if I loved myself. Few people truly do, and I could have accepted my self-abhorrence with grace if only he had loved me. If only once in my life, Mr. Burns could have told me he loved me in more than a purely platonic way. If we could be together the way I had eternally known we should've been: two men, yin and yang, captured by the prevailing spell of ceaseless existence as soul mates, against the world together, friends forever, two halves of a faultless whole of true love. But as it was, and as it had always been, there was only yin, there was only one half of the whole. There was only me, alone.

And the persistence of this state was what of which I was so desperately afraid. I couldn't take being alone anymore. I couldn't keep looking at my boss, my friend, as my heart teemed with affection I could never have returned. I couldn't stare at photos of my ex-wife at night, wondering if I had abandoned the one person who truly loved me for someone who never could or would. I couldn't feed Hercules day after day, knowing I would probably never have children to care for. And I certainly could not spend one more minute in this house, with its cold, dark, and empty spaces that mirrored the insides of my soul.

Why couldn't he have just loved me, damn it? Why did it have to be like this, so painful, just so purely painful? My whole life was painful, but nothing ever hurt so severely as unrequited love. Not my friendless childhood, not my agonizing divorce, not my descent into alcoholism, nothing. Nothing stabbed at my heart as indefatigably as my love for Mr. Burns did each and every day.

We did have our moments. There were times when Mr. Burns seemed to perhaps reciprocate my feelings, when he would compliment me or laugh with me or look at me a certain way. And while he certainly made it clear to others that he didn't like to be touched, he would sometimes initiate our physical contact and would often ask me to hold him or tuck him in. But who was I kidding? He didn't love me. At least, not in the way I wanted him to. He was too cruel and selfish and, well, heterosexual to ever love me. And that was what I realized that day. And that was what made me decide that without even hope of his love, I neither needed nor wanted life.

I stared at my house, laden with its inanimate objects, abundant with lifeless, soulless things. I thought about my life and some of my accomplishments. I attended Stanford University, yet now I felt like the biggest fool to ever live. I was the second-highest-level executive at the Nuclear Power Plant, yet not many of my coworkers would miss me when I was gone. I married the intelligent, kind, and beautiful Miss Springfield, yet all that was left of our love was faded pictures. I could fluently speak 5 different languages, yet I couldn't tell Mr. Burns how I felt in plain English. I was a failure.

I held the gun up slightly. This was it. This time it was for real. I began to cry, inaudibly, tears cascading down my heated face. Then there was a knock at the down and I jumped from the shock.

"Smithers?" called out a familiar voice from outside my house. I looked to the door and put the gun on the table.

"I'm coming, sir," I said, attempting to hide the sobs in my voice, wiping the trails of my tears off my face. I opened the door and saw the man I loved, hunched over, his face pained with concern. I grew panicked. "Sir, what is it? Are you all right?"

Mr. Burns looked at me, slightly confused. "Yes, I'm all right…are you?"

"What?"

"Well, it's just…you seemed different this last week, and I grew worried."

My heart rate increased in great measure. "You did?"

Mr. Burns nodded. "Well, yes. Why is that so hard to believe?"

I shook my head. "It's not. I just…didn't think you noticed my recent…um…depression."

Now Mr. Burns looked insulted. "What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?"

Now my heart almost ceased its cadence completely. I stared at Mr. Burns in shock. "Boyfriend?"

As if he didn't hear me speak, Mr. Burns continued ranting: "I know I'm the most selfish man in Springfield, but I'm not _that_ selfish."

I could barely speak. "Mr. Burns, did you say…boyfriend?"

"Well, yes," Mr. Burns clarified, giving me an odd look. "What's the matter with you, Smithers? Have you been drinking again?"

"A little, but Mr. Burns…I can't believe what I'm hearing. I thought…I thought all this time…" I didn't know what to say. I couldn't breathe. I wondered if I was dreaming. I truly believed I was dreaming. "You call me by my last name. You introduce me as your assistant…"

"Well, Smithers, you're also my employee, and you know we both have intimidating reputations to uphold. Of course, I call you by your last name and introduce you as my assistant. But we do everything together, more than any normal boss and employee would do. I thought we had an understanding," Mr. Burns said, suddenly looking very embarrassed. "Are you telling me that you never thought…? Oh, my God. Oh, bloody hell. Bloody hell, I'm such a fool!"

"No, Mr. Burns! I have thought…I just didn't think you thought…I mean, you were right. You were right. I love you. God, I love you so much, sir." Confessing this was the most freeing moment of my entire life.

We then stood there for a moment in silence. "So, all this time...you didn't know that I loved you?"

He said the words. I nearly fainted. "Sometimes I thought maybe, but I...I didn't know, sir."

Mr. Burns looked down with surprise and sadness. "I thought I made it clear." I said nothing. "Smithers, I'm so sorry that I didn't. I can't believe all this time you didn't know. All these years..." We stood again in quietude. "So, where does that leave us?"

I paused, still wanting to pinch myself and ensure the reality of this bliss and confusion and shock I was experiencing. "I don't know…what should we do?"

Mr. Burns hesitated and then smiled. "I know it might seem on a small scale compared to this massive revelation, but maybe we should...go out for dinner? As a couple? I guess we have years of couple time to catch up on, huh, my old friend?"

I returned the smile effortlessly and my heart sprouted wings. "Oh, sir. We do indeed." I looked back at my house. "Let me just do one thing first."

I went into my house and saw the gun on the table. Maybe I didn't love myself quite yet, but he loved me. He loved me. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I couldn't believe that I had almost ended my life, never even having found out his feelings. Never having the courage to tell him and ask him. I hoped no one would make the horrid mistake I was so very close to making.

I put the gun away, locked up in a cabinet where it belonged. I didn't need it anymore. And I never would again.

"Okay, Monty," I said, still not believing what my next words were going to be. "Let's go on that date."

THE END


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